


Which Started The Whole World Laughing

by Lonewritersclub



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Batjokes, Canon-Typical Violence, Confusion, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Fingering, I Started a Joke, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Sexual Content, Smut, Song Lyrics, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 23:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7952569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonewritersclub/pseuds/Lonewritersclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by DracoMaleficium's "Half Way Across". </p><p>Batman has put Joker in solitary after his latest outbreak, but too long is too long and Joker's beginning to break. His tattered mind falling apart as he realizes just what he's being subjected to.<br/>Fortunately, Bruce has come up with a new treatment for him.</p><p>(Set in the Joker's point of view)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Which Started The Whole World Laughing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Half Way Across](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795281) by [DracoMaleficium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoMaleficium/pseuds/DracoMaleficium). 



> Reading this won't require you to read the work this was inspired by, but I'd strongly advice to read "Half Way Across" by DracoMaleficium just because it is truly tremendous, amazing, so much better than this and you'll love it indefinitely.

 

_I started a joke,_

_which started the whole world crying_

 

He ran down the alleyway, jumped on a rickety old fire-ladder, climbed up, up, up to the roof and ran ran ran till his breath came out short and quick. There were wounds and scratches running across his skin, but that was the least damage he has had for a while now. Sticks and stones may break his bones but he'll always escape from the big bad Bat until he's ready to be caught again.

And little stones crunched under his shoes as he ran ran ran away from the big bad Bat. Sure, he needed him, sure he wanted him, but now he needed to get away from him to prepare for his next act. A clown had to have his acts ready. Couldn't let anyone see them beforehand or it would all be spoiled. No one laughs at a joke they've already heard, because all jokes rely on the act of surprise and then the amusement of it crackles the nerves of laughter. Otherwise it's like knowing how the trick is done even before the magician has completed it.

 _Oh,_ Joker had it all right now. He did what he was good at. He was getting what he wanted. The Bat couldn't stop him now. He was laughing through the pain, green eyes gleaming in the dark, excited though anxious, too. 

He had to hurry. Desperately. He had to flee to get this right.

Destruction and death. Just what he wanted. Just what he needed.

Because, after all, death was the funniest joke of them all. It was his best act. He had presented it many times but never in the same way. It's what kept him unpredictable and what made him interesting enough to watch time and a time again. He was a real high-end classic. Only for the Gotham's finest. 

He was running and running for as long as he could - and trust the Bat, he could run for quite some time. He was still losing his senses little by little. Becoming numb in his arms and in his legs, lungs burning. But he could go on for a lot longer still. He was unstoppable like the wind and he liked to think that he might be even more than that. He laughed out some more, blood beginning to trickle into his mouth from things breaking inside his throat. It fueled him to go faster.

And there was an edge and he was ready to jump to the other roof. But those little stones under his shoes really did break his bones.

Crunch and slip. He hit the edge of the roof with his straitjacket clad hands as he slipped on the slippery ground and with incredible speed he fell over it,

Down, down, down he went.

Until a wire snatched him from the air and giggles came through his teeth and he was being hauled up by the big bad Bat. Like slowly floating towards the white light. This meant that hope for fleeing was lost for now of course but _plan B_ wasn't even that bad either if he was being honest. Either way, there would be a second chance, or a tenth for doing his trick again for there always was.

"I'm taking you back to your room and you're going to walk with me there nicely. You've had your fun now - two men are killed and six seriously injured", the black looming shape grunted with booming low voice after he had hauled him up. "I doubt you feel any remorse for them but I sure do for the simple mistake of letting you out for even a single second. You can be sure that you're getting severely punished for this."

"Mmmhhhmmhh", he laughed in a whine under his breath as he tried to keep it in by clenching his teeth and he watched the frown unravel on the Bat's face by the look of his jaw. He was holding him up by his open at the arms straitjacket while he tried to get some footing on the ground, the Bat so tall and big.

"It will be a long time until I'm letting you go outside for fresh air again, you know. And no contact from anyone or anything for a month: you got suspended from all your rights to entertainment the moment you stuck a pen through that officer's head."

"Suuure, Batsy. But look, look, look, now, the sun's starting to set, we should start going if we want to get to the beach in time to ride with the unicorn into the pretty sunset. It's been a while since we've last done that and this is my special day outside after all", he said letting his trademark wide grin split his cheeks as he looked into looming man's eyes. The big bad Bat tugged on his arm and started leading them to the car. 

 

_But I didn't see,_

_that the joke was on me_

 

He has walked around this flat of four little rooms at least five hundred seventy-nine and a half times. He knows this, he has counted. He always counts it. He suspects there will be marks on the wooden floors and on the soft, soft carpets soon enough. However, if he doesn't get enough time for that, he will surely scratch the floors like so until his nails begin to bleed and fall off, just to have a legacy made out of this room where he has spent all this time being driven out his mind.

There's too much time.

Too little to do.

It was unnerving. It became an itch beneath his skin. It felt like something trying to get out. His veins filling with foul blood that begged him to either let it out, or to have something pressing against it to keep it in and let it run freely inside him and make him believe that was fine too. But there was no one to do either and there was no blade to open himself up. He had to opt for more conventional ways to relieve the pressure - pinch, pinch, scratch, scratch, bite, bite and thump, thump.

He would throw himself against the walls if he could. But he cannot, because they won't let him. That's just a tad bit too violent for them not to act. But then again, sometimes that act is more harming as it can be a delicious shock of electricity coming from the fastened bracelet on his wrist. If he was lucky and they won't just sedate him to serenity. So sometimes he does it on purpose, sometimes because he cannot handle. But there also is something that sometimes stops him from craving that attention he gets when he lets go. He has realized that behaving as they call it, can sometimes give him more attention than he would otherwise get. People just become frustrated and bored if they cannot influence. You need to keep them on their toes by letting them think they have things under control but never knowing how long that will last.

He throws the bed covers off the bed hastily. Too soft - they don't make a sound. He needs noise. There's no noise here. Soundproof everything. Only the voices that remind him to take his medication or warn him when he gets too close to misbehaving again. The doctor talks of course, but he doesn't want to listen to something that doesn't hold his interest in the slightest. There's not many things that do interest him in this flat of small, safe-proof, luxury rooms and that makes him angry. And when the anger relents, the anxiety blooms. He cannot do anything. There's nothing to relieve the panic. He knows that the only thing that may help is pain. He mostly prefers inflicting it, but never minds getting a taste of it himself. Or maybe it's the other way. Maybe he likes it a bit more than he should - not that he cares. Knowing would just give him something to work with more. But he doesn't like to dwell on such things for too long. He starts sounding weird even to himself then too.

He has to do it, no matter if he disappoints the doctors and the security guards or the big bad Bat by the control panel - not that he ever does, but he's been pulling an act together the past weeks being a good little boy. He doesn't anymore, because he's beginning to drown in fear. He needs something to keep it at bay for a while, for then at least he doesn't have to think more. Not any little bit more.

And maybe he has realized something valid: who has he to please anymore?

Many, but no one he cares enough about to please. No reason to please. He cannot handle. No, not anymore. There's no possibility to choose. That's gone. The options are gone, because no matter what he does, no one cares, it has no effect. Whatever he does ... nothing happens.

 

_I started to cry,_

_which started the whole world laughing_

 

He has taken the books, ripped the papers from their backs, taken down everything that isn't bolted to the floor. It wasn't nearly enough even though his fingernails are bloodied and cracked and his bones are aching, and so he begins hitting himself against the hard surface of the bed's headboard. This helps, this is good: the hot ache spreading at the back of his head, tender to the touch, especially when he hurls it against the wood. He loses himself in the pounding and in the pain. He's getting calmer no matter how bad it might look like. He feels a bit less anxious if only by just a fraction. He doesn't have to think about it at least now that he has something to do, something to feel.

The big bad black Bats comes in, something he didn't expect actually honestly for he's supposed to be alone, and that startles him so that his movement stops abruptly and he turns to face him. Something he doesn't expect either are the tears welling up in his eyes. This has not happened to him in many, many, many years. He doesn't understand. _This isn't what happens._

The Bat comes closer, slowly but surely, no hesitation in his stride but he approaches him like a cornered, scared animal. He begins laughing like always, though without a purpose or understanding of why anymore. It has become a reflex really. Not something in his power to control.

But tears have been that, he's always been able to be in charge of them, use them as he will, but never as a _'natural'_ reaction, and he doesn't understand how they now stain his cheeks with the black coal that he has used to line his eyes. But there's a hint of a light bulb that lights up inside his brain when he looks at the big bad Bats that kneels on the bed in front of him and reaches his hands towards him. He shudders when they contact with his forearms. They pull the dark red cloth that covers them upwards until his bare thumbs can touch his pale skin and the faint jagged scars that dance across it. They begin to press in a steady rhythm that resembles a calm heartbeat. He breathes out with strain in his muscles.

His laughter has ceased but his tears haven't and it seems like they aren't going to anytime soon.

The Bat eases himself closer to him until his side is pressed against his broad, cool Kevlar protected chest. "Shh..." A hand moves from his arm to the back of his head to cradle the tender area and to see if there's any wounds, blood. No, but there will be heavy bruising for sure. He might have a mild concussion as well, he needs to be looked after for a night, he cannot sleep for who knows if he might fall into a coma in the middle of that - not that he usually can even sleep.

"Just breathe, just breathe", the Bat speaks quietly and gently, but firmly anchoring some of Joker's thoughts back onto earth.

He doesn't know how to exactly do what the Bat asks for, but decides to just focus on the pleasant touches he's offering him, because they seem to be helping. They comfort him which he doesn't understand. It's not painful. It's the whole opposite of that. Why does it seem to help relieve the anxiety then? That thought alone starts to make the soft touches feel like burning metal dragged across his skin.

He doesn't like this feeling - not one bit.

He pushes against the shield of the large chest and escapes from the arms that try to secure him. "Ssh-sto-p", he manages to grunt out as he walks to the glass-wall and crouches in front of it, throwing his back at the Bat. Prey doesn't do things like he does with his predator, but it's not exactly like that even now that the predator has him in a cage. He can tip the tables over at any time - or he could have. Right now, there is salt in his eyes and his cheeks are damp and he has to stare intently into the distance of the silhouette of Gotham to be able to stifle whatever is in his throat threatening to come out. He scratches at his arms, faintly red lines appearing on the pale skin, only the parts where there are scars, remain completely unaffected.

 

_I looked at the skies,_

_running hands over my eyes_

 

"... Joker", the man coaxes him to come back over to the bed. He shakes strands of green out of his eyes. "Just tell me to stop and when _I don't_ , shock me, okay." His voice is strangely normal - in a normal human kind of way. He just sounds like a sad human which of course is highly odd for him, because he cannot remember the last time he might have noticed something like that about himself. This was an unusual day for him already even though none of his days went completely the same for him even in such a small, compassed space. That was all thanks to his brain and for it not really acting like a proper brain should. He didn't know what to think of that, but nothing good could come out of this, he bet.

Rustling he heard when the Bat moved on the white, white sheets. "They aren't watching. We're alone", he tells him. What? No one looking over in the control room, huh? He freezes for just a second before relaxing again. He could taste the tension and anticipation in the air and he licks his lips. This was getting interesting...

"I was wrong about restricting your external stimuli. Locking anyone up in sensory deprivation won't do much good - especially not for you. I've been thinking of another way to help you with your doctor. I think it could be more beneficent to reward you for good behavior rather than punish you for misbehaving, at least most of the time since you seem to be able to control pain easier than anything. Or more likely use it to get around the punishment, just like earlier. Or maybe it's the other way around. Either way, I think it's worth the try."

He couldn't help but laugh at the Bat's new philosophy on him. "W-well those rewards are gonna have to be real good Bats if you think I'm gonna be a proper goody-shoes for the sake of receiving them instead of, y'know, just being myself when now I wouldn't have to _worry_ about getting punished for it, Batsy", he decided to reply, but his voice was still abnormally shaky for some reason. Why couldn't he get rid of that weird lump in his blocking his throat? It was getting terribly annoying.

"I think you simply don't know what comfort can really be. You're turning to pain to relieve your stress because it's the only thing that has been inflicted on you - it's the only thing you know. You have had to make yourself relish in that so that you wouldn't fall apart completely because it won't stop either way", he speaks and he feels him getting closer, hand almost touching his shoulder by now. He feels the rumbling of beginning laughter in his chest, but it doesn't quite make out through his throat. _That stupid lump!_

Four inches... two... three again, two... it's an inch apart from him and...

Joker whips around on his heels and lunges at the big bad Bat like a long, sinewy wild cat. The Bat's hands are ready as he attacks the head of the flying rodent with his snow white fists. Dried blood that circles his each and every fingernail catches on the slightly resilient fabric of his mask, marking it dark red in thin, flaky stripes. The laughter finally makes it through the lump as the tears flow freely now. "How's that for psychology, Bats!" he shouts and laughs manically as he lies punches against the bone-hard head and muscle ridden shoulders covered in silky black of his cloak.

"Joker! Calm down!" the Bat commands through gritted teeth as he struggles to take hold of his flying limbs. He tries to tackle the Bat off the bed, but he looses some of his stance as he's on his knees against the soft surface of the bed. There isn't enough support from his back and as he lurches forward to push the Bat off, he falls against his strong form which remains motionless. The Bat comes forward and he struggles to get off and by that manages to make himself fall backwards. His back hits the mattress with a slight thump. The Bat is quick to catch his arms and keep them down on the bed by his wrists on either side of his head. Soon his ankles are pressed against the mattress too by the Bat's feet.

He huffs out in frustration and in the vain attempt to get his arms free from the man's grip. "Calm down", the Bat tells him again almost chanting it now and for a second he locks his eyes with the dark depths of the man who's him holding him down in a compromising position for anyone else to see. His lips are moving, but he cannot focus on that. "What's that?" he asks and turns his head to the side as to show his left ear.

"I'll show you, J. I'll show you what you need and I'll give it to you", the Bat grunts out, because he doesn't stop struggling even when it's deemed pointless. But that only fuels him further.

He's waiting for a syringe of some new mind-numbing drugs, maybe a good beating, maybe some more promises of solitary confinement after all, but none of those things are what happens next. What happens next is the Bat's hands moving his wrists to be gripped by just one of his hands so that the newly freed one can come to his face, come to cup his right side, his razor sharp jaw and then press his lips against the tainted red ones.

Gasps escaped his mouth and the Bat had a way to get in, pressing deeper. The warm breath that had been inside the Bat was sucked into his lungs as he took a huge intake of air in surprise, eyes wide and pupils blown, back arching off the bed.

The word of the day was overwhelming. So much after nothing felt like drowning in perplexity while there was a body pressing against his, touching him. He could not phantom what was going on but if he had to guess why, he would say one of them was forgetting their steps of the dance, but it didn't seem all too clear who it was.

The Bat withdrew after practically forcing him to relax, his back slumping back down on the bed with a long sigh being released out of him after the Bat wouldn't relent. He looked down to him, some faint red smeared on his lips now too. He didn't realize he was quiet and still as a corpse before the Bat smiled in satisfaction at his creation. "That's it", he praised and stroked his bare hand from his green hair to his pale cheek. Only the slightest tinge of blush had managed to creep it's way on his cheekbones from the lack of oxygen, making him almost look like a human again. "Isn't that better?"

He couldn't look into his eyes anymore. He couldn't stay there anymore. He couldn't, couldn't, couldn't...

He almost got his hands out of the Bat's grasp, because he had become infatuated enough himself for his grip to slacken some. Quickly though the Bat recovered and gripped them tightly in his both hands again, them having only gone as far as to his chest again. "Shh... What's wrong?" he asks in confusion. He glared at him, daring him to keep him down like this. "Let me go", he growled lowly bearing his teeth like a rabid dog.

"Don't do that, J. Don't let this go wrong. Let me help you. Let me take care of you", he invokes. He can't help but tremble, the dark gaze too powerful for him to quite handle. His mind felt like it was slipping away completely, leaving him bare and broken while the Bat would just look down at him and inspect the damaged, _poor_ little boy with pitiful eyes.

 

_And I fell out of bed,_

_hurting my head from the things that I'd said_

 

"I'm tired. Let me go. Why are you doing this?" he asks though it sounded more like an accusation. The Bat looks at him with a saddened shape to his mouth. "I'm trying to help you. That's what you wanted, right?" the Bat says, throwing him into a corner even inside his mind. "Not this..." he whines in a pathetic answer. "Because this might actually help you? Why does that sound so bad to you?"

He looks at him from the corner of his eye with the look of challenge to understand. The left corner of the Bat's mouth twitches upwards and soon he's smirking. Like a little bastard. That's supposed to be his game.

"You think that I'd ever let you go out of my sight, on your own, even if you do get better? No, no... If this is what makes you better, then you'll need to stay with me for the rest of days just to get your daily medicine", the Bat tells him and chuckles for a bit. His eyes widen comically as he stares up at the man in front of him. _He must be insane..._

This, he thinks, is this what he really needs? Is it really so?

Before he can wonder further, the lips are back on his, prying his lips open after a while and for some reason, he finds himself relenting. He feels the previously foreign tongue dive in and touch his, and he lets it adventure around as he feels himself to be pulled further and further beneath the surface of consciousness. It's like he couldn't breathe but he still feels air slowly being taken in and out, his chest heaving with the added warm breath of the Bat on top of him. He doesn't notice how the tension in his wiry muscles wears off slowly, but the Bat does and tentatively he lets go of his wrists and moves his hands to his shoulders, the other to his side. He doesn't notice it, he's being pulled beneath fast but in a sort of a balanced. He isn't scared. He's actually relieved in a way.

He isn't thinking. He doesn't have to.

His clothes are coming off. Even when the soft but firm and aggressive lips are off from his mouth, he doesn't move. He's been pulled under fully, all air in his lungs is gone, he's sinking to rock bottom slowly but surely. He notices his complete nudity only when the touches begin to feel more. Skin to skin. The Bat is warm against his naturally cool temperature. It's... funny...

 

_'Til I finally died,_

_which started the whole world living_

 

He should realize that something that he had always wanted to happen is probably happening now. He just never thought it would ever happen like this. That he would feel like this. That he would be _calm_ like the Bat wanted him to be. That his body complied to all of his requests now that his mind has flown away. In a way, it was like it was meant to be. But in his way, it wasn't supposed to be this way.

Why isn't he laughing? Why is there still wetness against his cheeks? How come his body is still and quiet as the Bat watches him from above? How come is this alright to him? To the Joker of all people?

_Now I really must have gone insane..._

The Bat kisses his body all the way from his toes to his collarbones. When he gets to his face, he looks down at him for a while again and unpredictably stands off the bed. He fetches a packet of hygienic wipes which is laying on the floor after the havoc he had caused earlier. The bat moves onto his knees back on the bed but takes his side where he has full view of the him at once. He takes the damp wipe from the packet and carefully and slowly begins to clean his face from the coal and tears around his eyes, the foundation and red lipstick. He doesn't resist. He does nothing at all, simply closes his eyes when the Bat gets to his eyes. The Bat uses quite a few of the wipes, because it seems like there's still some make-up, though not smeared anymore, when there isn't. The color of his lips remains as bright red as the lipstick, the color of his skin as white as the paint which is in fact even slightly warmer than his actual skin tone, and his thick black eyelashes remain the look of eyeliner surrounding his eyes.

Bats cares for his hands as well, cleaning the blood off. He's rather clean after that. Like the bad Bat wants. And the Bat kisses him on the mouth again and this time his lips open for him automatically. "There...", the Bat whispers to himself mostly as he leans backwards from him again. He begins to undress himself from the Kevlar, seemingly trusting that he'll stay in this sedated form. The pieces look to be complicatedly held together, but the Bat takes little time with each piece he removes and in record time he's all but left in just his black underwear. The utility belt isn't with him. It never is so there is not a way to scram away from this. Then again, he isn't so sure about doing that even if there was a machine gun place right in his hand at the moment. His body is drowning and his mind floating away and he isn't sure what is left there on the bed underneath the Bat to look at and use. Is this what it feels like to be free? Or caged? All he feels are the Bats' hands on him as the spread his limp legs and holds his pliant body in his arms, to his chest. It all causes something to bubble up inside him and fill his chest and whole being with whatever that is already numbing and heightening his senses at the same time. It's something he hasn't felt before or something he has lost so long ago so that he doesn't remember what it is now.

The Bat nibbles at his neck, forming small, red/violet bruises at their wake. His arms loop around the tanned flesh of the Bat's muscular neck. Or should he maybe not call him Bats anymore now that he wasn't wearing his uniform? Is it merely Bruce now?

But it's never just Bruce. It's never just Bats either. They are inside only this one person - he is both of them all the time not matter how he acts. He should call him whatever he is - that is if he could form words or even sounds that aren't just sighs and gasps. But he knows that even if his communication abilities have seemed to mostly shut down, he could trust the Bat also not to hurt him. He continues to touch his bare body with soft and gentle gestures before laying him back down against the mattress. Another sigh escapes his red lips.

Bruce is taking it all so slowly, but he hasn't got it inside him to fight it. In fact he practically needs this to be done exactly like the way the Bat is doing it no matter how unbearable it gets at times, the tension whining to be released. He knows the Bat feels the same though, after having been sitting on his lap earlier.

There's a bottle of clear, mint scented body lotion that Bruce had given him with only good-will in mind before, and it had been thrown off in the corner next to the bed and Bruce goes to grab it and brings it to the them. He settles between his spread out thighs, opens the bottle and squeezes some of it on his fingers. He lays the bottle next to them while warming up the liquid between his thumb, index and middle finger. He looks up to his face and wonders at the lucid gaze that stares back at him. He takes his fingers to his backside and circles his entrance with the slick fingers. The index goes in first - slowly, tenderly. He remembers to keep himself relaxed although he doesn't really need to try. His body is slack. He wonders if Bats had accidentally used an unknown magic word at him that made him surrender like this completely.

The second one, the middle one eases itself in after the first one had got his body used to this feeling. They scissor inside him, twist, curl upwards and his whole body lights up, like he's got shocked - and trust him, he knows what electroshocks feels like. The Bat smirks in satisfaction at the reaction he drew out from him. Some life seemed to enter him finally. " _Good_..." he hears the Bat mutter under his breath.

Third one burned but outside he looked entirely unfazed. He closed his eyes, his hands remained open and limp against the mattress where Bats had left them after lying him down there. The fingers worked their way up to a knuckle and began going in and out at a steady, slow pace. "That's it", the Bat muttered in delight as his body slightly twisted on its own to get the Bat's fingers prod at that sensitive place inside him again. He complied, putting a steadying hand on his hip and then gave a smooth press against the spot that made his jelly limbs spark from the impulse.

The Bat began lining himself up on his entrance after taking his sweet time withdrawing his fingers first. Taking off the boxers, he lathered some more of the body lotion on his member before starting to push in. It was an easy, smooth slide and in seconds he was buried inside his tight heat. Bat was kind enough to let him get used to it before beginning to move. He kept his eyes closed, letting just the sighs leave his mouth as he was being spread open and filled with Batman's cock.

_... with...? This was -, this was Batman! This was happening! Bats is inside me! I'm fucking Batman!_

It felt like all reason came back to him in that moment. Well, a lot of people would not call it exactly reason for he was deemed insane. But his consciousness was finally realizing what was actually going down. This was him being fucked by the Batman! The man was beginning to move slightly, ever so quicker deep in and completely out of him. He was holding his hips down gently but surely. His eyes snapped wide open, startled, green expressing the amazement and shock in a very livid way at the man who was smirking down at him as he fucked him deep and slow. He jumped up, or more like sat up for he was held down by his hips still. Bruce stopped his movements and stared at the wakened form of him.

"What are you doing?!" he screams out and takes hold of the Bat's shoulders, trying to hold himself up with his legs still hooked lightly around the other's hips. Bruce held up his hand and cupped his cheek again. He found himself to be trembling in contrast to Bats' firm, balanced form. "Shh... It's alright, J. I'm taking care of you like I said. This is what you need", the Bat explains calmly like it's the simplest thing in the world that he is not just getting. But as he just watched the dark eyes gaze into his green ones in the soft glow of the setting sun, he eventually came down from the fright however without being able to still quite let go.

"What's happening?" he asks sounding rather pathetic in his own ears too. He's desperately trying to find the answer in the man before him who he has been obsessing and gushing over this whole time after having been dropped off at Ace Chemicals. He couldn't understand what had happened right now, him letting himself be so dominated over, going completely pliant under the rough, but gently working, strong hands of the Bat when he should have been the one to jump at his idol first instead. Afterwards the Bat should have punched him a few times and then left him alone in his room again to hammer his head against the walls. How had that not happened? How could have this ever happened instead?

"Something that should have happened a long time ago. Please, Joker, you need to calm down, don't hurt yourself. Let me take care of you now. This is what you need", he says to him again like it's no big deal that they are in bed together having sex. Bats leans down, taking hold of his waist so that they can both lay down against the mattress again. He's pressing his whole warm, big body flush against his and he's suffocating. Not from lack of air though, but the emotions and feelings that run through his shaking body.

Bruce took his face into his hand while the other one rested on his waist, waiting for his eyes to flicker from their bodies being reflected in the glass wall back to his face. He was baffled for the lack of a better word. It was overwhelming and overpowering what he was feeling. The whole situation leaving him breathless and boneless.

Bruce's hot body moved against his as he continued on his thrusting, hitting that special place deep inside him with every thrust. Of course the Bat was very well hung. _Jeez..._ They looked into each other's eyes for a good while. He, looking for that true answer and Bats having the time of his life from being in control of the usually frantic and deadly Joker. He was having the toughest time apprehending that fact. It was so far out of his plans and hopes that he didn't know how to react to it with a readied line of thought. This was all coming from behind the bush with no expectations for it. (Or had there been something to give this off in reality, outside the insanity within? He couldn't pick up on that either.)

He couldn't handle this sort of surprise so his trembling got worse, breathing picked up and heart began hammering inside his chest. Whimpering. Even his cheeks were getting a dusting of blush. But most of all, the agitation in his eyes broke through Bruce's brain and he stopped. He sighed, giving a firm look at him, the smirk beginning to fade away. However a kind smile replaced it suddenly. He collected him in his embrace and pressed his lips against his. "Joker, you're going to be fine. All you need to do is let me piece you together now that I know how. You just witnessed it yourself. If you just let me take care of you, you can be calm. That's how we need to be. No more anxiety and anger. No more that crazy stuff. You wouldn't be hurting yourself and other people if you let me do this for you", he tells him softly and strokes his head. He actually feels his muscles relaxing at the pleasant touch again, but the meaning of his words still leave him unsettled. They think they've found a cure for him?

"And how are you going to do that exactly, Bats?" he manages to ask him, an amused thought to his head though still with a doubting frown crowning it, and so his voice is left uncharacteristically soft and small. Bruce smiles at him even more and gives a peck to the edge of his lips. "By showing you love of course", he answers.

This really is more than he can take. His laughing reflex takes over and so the mania, his shattered mind needing to take back some control over the situation. Bruce stands by but takes his hand to his neck and the other to his temple to hold him down, hoping to calm him back down again. But he cannot stop it. He laughs, eyes shut, till his throat aches from the dryness.

"Joker, calm down now, shh..." he hears the Bat tell him, but it all sounds like it's coming from another room, muffled and mixed with spacious air. He can't stop laughing and his stomach is cramping and lungs hurting. Then it all stops abruptly when Bruce pushes back in. He gasps loudly, back arching off the bed. Bats grabs his hair from the back of his head, bearing his throat to him. "Shh... Calm down now, J. It's alright, it's alright. You're safe. I'm gonna take care of you."

He's fucking him properly now, fast and hard. No laughing comes from him now except some more gasps and tiny, hitching, groaning sounds. He can't even hold on for his dear life as Bruce takes him. He's losing again... drowning.

"Batsss", he hisses without realizing when he tension in his stomach begins to unravel finally. Bruce's hands wander over his this time cooperating body, basically groping him. "Yes, Bats is gonna take care of you now. Just let it go. Come for Bats. Come for me J."

This is definitely more than he can take.

Eventually it's forced out of him very naturally, and Bats is covering his mouth with his own, eating his moans out. All the stimulation and much more he hasn't been allowed to receive in a long time has overloaded his senses quickly. And when he comes, leaving clear liquid between their abdomens, he realizes what he has just given the Bat.

The key to his mind.

Now he can come in at any time to look around. To inspect, to worry about it, but most importantly, to control it.

It's slightly uncomfortable now as Bruce moves. It's too much for his sensitive body. But he takes it. It's the least he can do for his shattered reputation. Soon though he feels hot liquid coating his insides. In a way it actually feels rather nice, not entirely foreign to be honest, and he gets that floating feeling again. The warm, strong body embracing him feels comforting besides the thoughts he's having. Or maybe that realization isn't even that horrible, when he thinks about it. He cannot be sure about it quite yet though. Things are happening slowly but so fast at the same time for him to keep up with a certain, thought-out behavior, because there isn't one already laid out for him. He hasn't even got to begin to build a certain way to think of this. There is just menacing ticking reminding him that time was running out. Things were happening no matter what and he hadn't still grasped reality properly and now it was out of his control. The Bat was in charge.

_Is this good? Is this bad? When did that matter?_

The Bat kisses him, tongue meeting his, stifling the single moan that now escapes him. They were so close now. Bats' weight on top of him eased his mind again, thought process slowing down to a low hum. His heavy breathing blew across his face cooling him off a dash.

His shaking had broken off. Bruce smiles at him, leaning on his forearms over him. He's still seated inside him - his thighs are beginning to burn from the strain, but that he likes. He doesn't say anything even though the Bat seems to feel like cuddling and stays put, peppering his neck with nips and kisses. "There we go", he says after a while and starts to get up. He lets his hands slide over his body all the way to his knees before pulling out. He looks down at his stomach with a grin. "Perhaps we should take a shower", he says and pats his thigh twice.

"J?"

He still hasn't said anything. This seems probably quite odd. The stillness, the limp limbs. The eyes that won't move from the white ceiling. The slow breathing, the unnaturally calm heart-rate (for him anyway). But he doesn't know what to do even now. A regular person might know what to do. He would like to use the life-line option now if he could, please. I'd like to speak with an ordinary man or a woman. Not anyone from Gotham though, none of them are actually quite sane - they wouldn't live out there if they were. He needs some hints. What happens now?

Bruce sighs with a small smile playing on his lips and turns to sit beside him and takes hold his jaw in his cooled down hand gently. "Come on now. You can walk. Or do you want to be carried, princess, hm?" he asks. He doesn't have time to even make a move before Bats' arms catch him beneath his knees and his back. He's pulled into his chest in a matter of few seconds. They are already on their way to the bathroom before he realizes what's happening again.

Bruce somehow manages to open the door and the shower door too while still tightly holding onto him. They are both still stark naked so there's no time wasted for undressing. Bats lowers him onto his feet when they're in the spacious shower cubicle of dark grey tiles. He looks around himself slightly dazedly and gets startled by loud sounds as the water starts cascading upon them. Bruce has one of his arms always around him and he keeps that as his lifeline at the moment. Everything is blurry and echoy in the small space.

"Close your eyes. You don't want shampoo in them."

He quickly complies and then the arm disappears from his side. There's an unclasping sound and he gasps and opens his eyes, back hitting the tiled wall behind him. He locks eyes with a confused and a tad worried look in the Bat's gaze. He looks down at his hand that had disappeared his waist and finds a bottle of soap in it. He exhales a bit shakily before nodding and closing his eyes again. Hands start twisting his hair between long fingers and his head is soon bubbling, citron scent filling the air.

"You don't have to be afraid, J. I'll do anything I can not to have to resort to my usual ways with you. Not now that I know a better way", Bruce mutters as he bathes him. He backs him under the shower-head and rinses his hair. When he starts cleaning his body with another fancy looking bottle of shower wash, his hands linger on his bottom where cum is dripping between his thighs. "Do you hear me, J?" he insures and takes his chin between his thumb and index finger. His eyes flicker open to look at him and Bruce deems that as an answer enough.

He washes his body from head to toe very intimately before washing himself. The shower is switched off and they get out. His feet feel strange on the cool tiles. He inspects them with his eyes but doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. Bruce wraps one of the soft white towels around himself, around his hips while looking at him just stare at his own feet. He towels him dry too, when he makes no move for them himself. He uses another, smaller towel to dry his hair and for a second stops the ruffling and looks at his face squeezed between his large towel covered hands and decides to kiss him again.

Next is the soft, silky, dark purple dressing gown. The fabric flickers in shadow and light brilliantly. The Bat slips it on him and ties the belt in a knot tightly and grins at him. "Your color", he says before he towels himself better and starts dressing himself with the clothes that are sitting on the bench next to the door.

 

_Oh, if I'd only seen,_

_that the joke was on me_

 

He stops, looking at the Bat who has just put on a black t-shirt that does nothing to hide his rippling muscles. He stops too when he notices his expression. "What is it?" he asks. What a stupid question. "The clothes. How are your clothes there?" he says and points at the bench repeatedly where they were just now. "I took them here with me", he responds like it's that plain simple.

"No. No. Someone brought them there. Someone came in", he tries to explain. The Bat hadn't brought them here, he would have seen them. He couldn't have come here knowing what was going to happen. Or maybe he had the intention of something like it happening, but it didn't change the _fact_ that Bats hadn't brought clothes with him when he came in. Someone _knew_. "J..." the Bat starts but he cuts him off. This was a plan they all had conjured. They were all laughing at him now behind the cameras. Laughing... laughing as he _cried_...

"You said that no one was there."

To say he felt betrayed was an understatement of huge ratio. "J, I was telling the truth. I brought these clothes with me when I came in. You just didn't notice them in your... fit."

Oh... Oh! They both know very well already that he doesn't like when some of his antics get called out. Especially when they are called little _"fits"._

"Liar! You didn't bring them here. Someone came in! Someone saw and they came. They know! And you know they know! You wanted them to see!" He can't help his voice reaching volume. He doesn't care either. Bruce gets on his defensive stance again, waiting for an attack. He should be, he's fuming. With what, he doesn't quite identify yet though.

"Hey, shh... J, no one came in. No one is here but me and you. Even Alfred is away for the time being. You can calm down, J", the Bat tells him and puts his arms out like they do when encountering with scared, endangered species. He's coming closer to him now. Slowly but surely, yet again. He's moved to a slight hunch, crouch without realizing, ready to tackle down the liar, but when Bats gives him that look... What is it? What do you call that? What is that...

His legs become wobbly. His mouth dries out. He has to straighten his posture not to fall down. His scowl falls away. The Bat gives out a relieved sigh. Soon he's got him in his arms again, head pressed against the chest where he can hear his heart beating - too fast, he was intimidated.

"That's it... I wouldn't let them see us like that, you can count on it. That's private", Bats tries to console him."Am I just your experimental guinea pig?" he mumbles out still. The man shakes his head. "No, you're not. You're my Joker."

But to him, sometimes that sounds the same.

They have dinner next. Bats takes his suit to the back to his cave, because apparently the staff is now coming back again to look over them. When he comes back, he's Bruce. He brings spicy onion soup and fresh bread. He sits on one of the chairs that isn't broken from his earlier fight with the furniture, legs crossed and just stares at Bruce thoughtfully. He's finally regaining his thought process again from the little space he got between the Bat's company. He got a lot to think about.

Bruce looks at him back now, letting go of his spoon. He's almost finished with his bowl. He hasn't touched his. "You should eat", he says. "I'm not hungry", he replies with an easily and continues his staring. Bruce has a different look to him now. It's not as reserved and restrained. Power is radiating off of him: his stance relaxed and all encompassing with wide shoulders and legs parted, expression open with nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. He's neither the Bat nor the Bruce anymore with him. He's a mixture of both he hasn't seen properly before.

"You aren't eating enough", he states still. "A lady must watch over her figure", he says back with a smirk. "No lady's that skinny. Besides, you're _no_ lady. - You need to look after yourself better."

He sighs out deeply with an eyeroll, melodramatic as ever. "Did it ever cross your little brittle mind that I might be just _naturally_ leanly toned? You really should know better with all that medical expertise you've got that not everyone has got such a burly body type just like yours."

"I still think you should eat a little more. You haven't had any. I don't want to worry about you fainting on me too."

"Honestly, I think that's the least of your problems, Batsy boy", he grumbles back and stands up from the table. He goes to sit on the edge of the bed that's a real mess now that he doesn't bother cleaning up. He looks out into the dark horizon that spreads out behind the woods surrounding the mansion. You can see the city lights clearly from up there. He wonders on how much action he is losing at the moment. Actually change that - probably not very much compared to what happened just awhile ago. He's probably getting more than he bargained for currently.

He hears the Bat coming closer. He sits behind him on the other edge of the bed. It annoys him greatly how the bed drops under his weight and unsettles him on the other side. Can't he just look at the pretty lights?

"Hey... What's wrong?" he asks like it isn't now as simple as it was before. He falls down to lay on his back and there that face is above him immediately. It's almost like he can't get rid of him now that he finally has him. He snarls at him.

He's frowning at him, all worried now. That's real grand, really, it truly is. Who does he think he is? Batman?

He gets back up, leans against his arms and then looks at Bruce over his shoulder who's just sitting beside him, and he looks at him like a calm, rational human being with a natural, plain expression. "Nothing", he answers dryly. The frown deepens between his brows on the Bat's face. "What?" he asks confused. "Nothing is wrong, Bats", he clears and with pressing on each word: "Everything is right", and goes back to staring at the world that's shielded from him by bulletproof glass.

Bruce sighs out. "Joker. I'm sorry if this all confusing for you. I didn't mean to make it like that, but I didn't know how to do this any slower either. When I saw you alone in here, hitting your head against the headboard with tears in your eyes... I couldn't stop myself. I had to see if this was the answer even if I went through it quickly. However don't you think this is better for us? Isn't this what you ultimately wanted? All your little flirtatious remarks and flippant hints - when you say I complete you? Isn't this exactly what you wanted?" he asks. His arms wound themselves around him and press him against his chest. His purple, silky nightgown opens slightly from the movement around his thighs. That makes him feel suddenly very vulnerable.

"This?" he emphasizes, questions with raised brows. He can see their reflection from the window. The way the Bat holds him, the way he sits still.

He turns his head to the side and looks up to meet his eyes. "No", he answers in a terrifically nonchalant way. He waits, to see a different expression mold into the man's features. Instead though, his expression remains gratified. He even smiles lightly.

"Then it's exactly what you needed."

And the arms tighten around him and he can't help but relax against the warm, tough chest. His eyes lay back to their reflection and the gown parts some more. "Batsy?" he asks quietly after a while. "Yes?" he responds, his breath tickling his ear. "What is that look in your eyes?" he finally inquires, breathing beginning to pick up as he waits, staring at themselves from the window over Gotham.

First the Bat simply snickers slightly, more warm breath flying over his exposed neck. Then answers with a strange sense of finality in his voice though it's laced with attraction and pleasure. "Love of course, J."

And he can't help but whimper helplessly as the arms holding him hug him closer, a hand going under his jaw and the man's sensual lips pressing against his pale, naked throat.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that the verb tense varies, but I kind of meant it that way, but it was also me kinda just being stupid, and a part because the Joker doesn't think very clearly all the time to be honest. And I think I was very clear in the way I didn't use "Joker" when I wrote about him, because I wanted this to be still be very much his point of view and stuff, so though it might make it a little harder to read because it's just him and him when there are two men, but I made that decision when I started writing so what can I do. Either way, this was probably really confusing to read but I'd be interested to hear if you still managed to catch what it was about this whole ordeal.
> 
> Because to me, I feel like this is about how Bruce decides to "love" Joker in order to cure him because he thinks that's what he needs to become better (and he's thinking of Gotham too ofc). And he's right in a way, but when he starts "loving" him. the Joker becomes slightly 'saner', so at the same time realizes how wrong it is. Why is that man loving him - he's awful!  
> He wants the Bat to love him, but wants it to be more like him giving in because Joker finally drove him off the bent or something like that. But now that he "loves" him unconditionally, he can't take that because he wasn't ready for it, it wasn't his decision like everything else in some way usually is. He wants chaos, he does, but this wasn't chaos as much as it was just too much for him. This is chaos that Bruce decided on. Joker didn't call the shots that led to this as much as Bruce did, Joker didn't know what this might do to him.
> 
> Loving Joker cures him, but now the "cured" (really just calmed down) Joker hurts from being loved. He doesn't necessarily regret or feel guilty over what he has done in the past, but knows what he's done isn't right either. The Bat just makes him feel embarrassed, humiliated over it. Makes him feel like he's actually insane now that he feels good after feeling like shit for so long. Feeling something so normal as love is something he hasn't felt before because he isn't normal and eventually that is what drives him mad, but in a different kind of way to usual. He feels crazy because the situation Bruce has put him is something he cannot comprehend. 
> 
> Eheheheheehhe... too deep, huh? Or just plain stupid? You decide.
> 
> Here's some music to go with the story (duh). This whole, new version doesn't fit the lyrics as well, but either way, this is the song I used - though it's not the original one to the lyrics. [I can't give you the link, but you can search for it as "ConfidentialMX- I started a joke ft. Becky Hanson on Atlantic Records' channel on Youtube.]
> 
> This is actually like my first ever songfic too. Hope you liked it. I just thought this was the most perfect song for the Joker in this situation and it just overall it fits him in my opinion so well, I had to make this. Like you know, how the Joker's the one to crack the jokes and stuff, but because that's like him killing people, then people are terrified and "cry". But now that Joker's 'imprisoned' he cannot do the things he loves and eventually breaks down and 'cries' and at the same time the world is a better place now that he's gone, so it's 'laughing' and stuff, and so the Joker wishes he had seen that so he hadn't gotten himself into this situation.  
> It's not too hard not to make the clicks between the lyrics and the story I hope, but I'm so tired so I probably don't make any sense. Like, I've never even written anything for Batman so I don't know much.
> 
> Oh, and as you must already know by now, this story was inspired by the story on Archiveofourown "Half Way Across" by DracoMaleficium. I know this wasn't not nearly as good as their writing but I had to do this, just had to. 
> 
> Either way, toodles for now!


End file.
